The Dryad's Kiss

by Scott VanKirk

  “Finn, why didn’t you tell me or your dad you were having such troubles with your girlfriend?”

  Of all the things she could have asked, this one I could answer truthfully. “Mom, I’m just embarrassed. I didn’t think you’d understand.”

  “Finn, you realize your dad and I were both teenagers, don’t you?”

  “Sure, but you aren’t now. You’re my parents, and there are some things that are hard to talk to parents about.”

  She reached out her arms. “Oh, my poor dear. Come here.”

  I went and got a great big hug, and, as always, my problems seemed a little smaller.

  After she released me from her motherly interrogation, I had to go be by myself a bit to sooth my jangled nerves. The doctor probably fed me more than I had given him, and I needed to digest it further.

  All thoughts of sanity aside, it seemed that Jen had been hit with a vision from the dreamstone, one more like my latest overwhelming visions than the gentle inspiration I’d received before.

  Could it be that my involvement and the stick’s presence had somehow made the vision more powerful and shattered Jen’s hold on reality? Could this be the power of the heart that Shaman Jeff warned me about?

  I tried to remember if Jim and I had both held the crystal; we had, and it hadn’t bothered him a bit. The only difference with Jen was Spring’s presence. Somehow, she must have done something to Jen. After all, she’d proven herself capable of giving me visions. If that were true, I had to get her to reverse whatever she had done to Jen.

  That thought brought me some hope. Maybe we would be able to fix the damage to Jen without having to let anyone else know about Spring.

  Drain

  That night, I waited for Spring with some trepidation. I was determined to get answers from her while I was fully awake, but of course, I fell asleep.

  Incredibly soft, warm, and familiar lips touched mine, waking me. It took me some effort to throw off my sleep, and I found it even harder to stop her amorous touch. The familiar urgency I always felt in her presence threatened to wash me away.

  “Wait,” I begged. “Wait.”

  She frowned, puzzled, and sat back, straddling me, her pubic hair pressed against my groin. I tried not to groan. She waited for me to speak.

  Tearing my gaze from her mesmerizing form, I instead stared into her deep green, beautiful eyes. Damn, she seriously screwed with my concentration. When turning away didn’t help, I closed my eyes and asked her, “What did you do to Jennifer?”

  When she didn’t say anything, I risked a glance at her face. Her raised eyebrows expressed what she wasn’t saying: “Who?”

  “The girl—the one who visited the other morning—who ran from the room when you broke the window.” Will she deny breaking it?

  In her soft, melodic voice, she replied, “That one. She tried to hurt This One. She tried to take This One from me.” Spring leaned forward and put her hand on my chest, and she growled, “This One is mine!”

  She leaned closer, her intentions plain in the sultry gaze she pinned me with.

  I gulped and put out my hand, closed my eyes again and forced myself to think. “Wait. Wait. What did you do to her? Did you hurt her?”

  “No. She ran away scared when she saw me. Away from This One. Away from mine,” she said.

  The soft puffs of her words caressed my lips from inches away, and the smell of her filled me with giddiness and lust.

  Just before our lips touched, she said, “No one will hurt or take This One. This One is mine.”

  The feeling was mutual, and I gave in to Mom Nature, or at least her sexy daughter. All my worries washed away in a flood of hormones and ecstasy. One last happy and wondrous thought caught my mind. What did I do to deserve this?

  My last thought echoed in my mind the next morning when my dad walked into my room and shook me awake. I don’t know how long he had been shaking, but I woke out of a dream of riding in the beat up old pick-up we'd first used at the mound.

  “Okay, Dad,” I mumbled into the pillow. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”

  He ceased shaking me and stood back. “Finn, what is going on with you? What happened to your room?”

  I squinted around through half-lidded eyes at the sheets and blankets all scattered and piled up on the floor. My pillow had been so traumatized, it was hiding under my desk. How did it even get there? I don’t remember doing that.

  “Uh, just dreaming I guess.”

  “You look terrible. You look like you didn’t get to sleep at all. Are you having anxiety attacks again?”

  “Uh, no, Dad,” I said. I followed with the story that seemed to be working whenever anyone else asked. “I’ve just been having a hard time with this girl.” The understatement of the century. “I haven’t been able to get to sleep at night.”

  I could almost hear my dad’s Finn-dar going off in his head, but he didn’t challenge my story. “Finn, I know at your age girls seem like the most important thing in your life, and I know how they can get under your skin, but you have to let this one go. She’s killing you.” He paused, then he headed out the door while saying, “Anyway, it’s time to get up. I need your help with the deck today.”

  After he left, I crawled out of bed and started sifting through the piles for some suitable clothes.

  “She's killing you”, rang through my head.

  I paused in front of my dresser mirror to examine myself. My pale complexion made me appear half-dead, and my eyes had big dark circles under them. The black stick hung from its string around my neck, its color seeming to emphasize my pallor. I tried to run a hand through my disheveled hair with no effect. It sprang back looking like wild grass. There wasn’t much point in a shower given my dad’s plan for me today, so, I got dressed, put on a cap, and headed downstairs.

  That day I pounded Dr. Pepper just to keep functioning. Even so, I fell asleep after lunch, and my dad had to get me up again. Like working in a labor camp, the day was endless and exhausting. We had to dig about a million holes three feet deep for the piers to hold up the deck. I couldn’t believe how many it took to hold up a few boards. This deck would survive the next ice age. It didn’t help that my dad was sharp and abrupt all day.

  When I asked him what was up, he snapped, “Nothing, Finn. Is that hole ready yet?”

  Once, when I went in for water, I found my mom peering out the kitchen window at Dad with concern. The look she cast to me was, if anything, even more worry-filled.

  For the third or fourth time that day, she said, “Finn, honey, I’m worried about you. You look terrible.”

  I didn’t answer, because I didn’t have an answer that would satisfy her. “Mom, what’s eating Dad today?”

  “I suppose he didn’t tell you?”

  “No,” I said, alarmed. “What is it?”

  “I suppose, your dad should tell you, but he probably won’t, and I think it’s something you need to know.”

  “What is it?”

  “Last night after you went to bed, we talked about Jen, and I told him what the doctor had said. He took it pretty hard when I told him that they diagnosed her with a psychotic break.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes, I know he has never said anything, but your birth mom, his first wife, had a psychological breakdown as well. She became paranoid, panicky, and confused. It happened a short while after you were conceived. All during her pregnancy with you, they kept her in an institution, under watch.”

  I gaped at her. My gut clenched like someone had punched me. The thought about my mom carrying me while trapped in a mental institution pushed all my buttons. “I…” I had no idea what to say. “I… that’s awful. I didn’t know.”

  She took me into her arms and gave me a big hug. “Of course you didn’t. No one ever told you.”

  I leaned into her hug; it had been a long time since I had hugged my mom like this; she seemed too short. My eyes were level with the top of her head, and I tilted my head down to rest it against hers
. This information reinforced my doubts about my own sanity.

  “Do you think it’s something I inherited?”

  She hugged me tighter. “Oh, honey, I don’t think so. You’re one of the most stable and sane people I know.”

  I swallowed hard, trying not to let any tears fall. What would she think if I told her what’s been happening to me? I almost did—almost.

  I tried to think about something else. “That must have been terrible for Dad.”

  “Yes, he told me it was the hardest time in his life. They hadn’t been able to conceive for several years, and then, after he returned from a long trip, they managed to conceive you. It should have been the happiest time of their lives.”

  “No wonder he’s in such a mood.”

  “He told me that the only thing that calmed her down and brought her peace was talking about you. She loved you with all her heart until the day she died.”

  A lump squeezed my throat. If all the movies and TV series I watched could be given credence, I was pretty atypical when it came to having an adoptive parent. I had never been too curious about my biological mom. I loved the one I had, and she returned it tenfold. I had a deep bond with both my parents, and that had always seemed enough. To hear about what my birth mom went through carrying me to term shifted everything around.

  I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I just gave her another big hug. “Thank you for telling me, Mom.” After that, I had a lot more empathy for my dad’s mood, and I tried to keep everything as drama-free as possible. I don’t think he noticed, but I didn’t need him to. Sometimes you just have to give to the ones you love.

  Late that afternoon when he called it quits, my legs and arms quivered with exhaustion, and the world spun about my head. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, but I had to talk to Gregg about Jen. I needed to know more, and I had to see Jen. I didn’t know if I could do anything for her, but maybe I could explain to her what might have happened and help straighten her out.

  Gregg wouldn’t answer his cell or his home phone, so I went over to his house. Tired and determined, I fought through my fatigue and walked past the three intervening houses with their large acre yards. When I reached the door and knocked, Gregg answered both my prayers and my knock when he opened the door. Worry and fatigue had drained his face and put black circles under his dark eyes.

  He scowled at me. “What do you want?”

  “Gregg, I have to talk to you. I have to find out what’s happening with Jen. I feel responsible, but I have no idea what happened!”

  “Well, no one does, but you obviously did something to hurt her.”

  “No, I swear Gregg! Come on, this is me, Finn! I have a hard time stepping on ants. You know I’d never do anything to hurt her.” I yearned so desperately for him to believe me, I put every ounce of sincerity I had into my voice. I just needed him to believe. In my mind I kept repeating over and over, Come on, Gregg, believe me! Believe me!

  Something passed through his eyes, and he finally relented. “Oh shit Finn. I believe you. I know you didn’t do anything to hurt her.” Then, without warning, his face crumpled, and he began crying. “It’s just so damn scary! It’s like she can’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her.”

  In a welter of confused emotions, I gave him an awkward hug. “I know, bud, I know.”

  I guided him into the house, and we sat down in the living room. We reclined in the dark since all the curtains were closed. Gregg just sat with his head in his hands, shaking.

  I opened the curtains to let the late afternoon sunlight shine in, and gave Gregg a chance to collect himself. When the time seemed right, I asked, “Gregg, can you please tell me what’s going on with her?”

  He stared at me through red eyes as I handed him a tissue. He cleaned his nose and mouth before speaking.

  “She’s really messed up. One minute she’s fine, and then the next, she’s panicking about the end of the world. She rambles on about weird stuff or talks about wanting to go back to Illyria or about how your tree is evil and how it hates her and the entire world, and how she wants to destroy it. She doesn’t make any sense. The doctors say she had a “psychotic break” and they give her drugs, but they just seem to make her tired and dopey.”

  I wanted to tell Gregg my theory about what had happened to Jen, but I couldn’t speak until I was more certain. “Can we go see her?”

  “I don’t know. They don’t like her to have too many visitors. The doctor says company gets her more confused and agitated. He barely lets us in.”

  “Gregg, I need to see her. I need at least to let her know that I’m there for her, too. Maybe she’ll understand, maybe she won’t. I just need to see her.”

  Uncertainty flashed across his face, but I had swayed him. “I’ll have to ask my parents when they get home.

  Those were the words I needed to hear, and I had a brief moment to savor the relief they brought. A wave of dizziness washed through my mind, and I collapsed on the couch next to Gregg.

  “Bro, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I mumbled. “I just haven’t been sleeping lately.”

  “You look like crap, Finn.”

  My smile felt unnatural and stiff. “Thanks, Gregg. I love you, too.”

  I tried to swallow past my suddenly thick tongue. “I have to tell you something. Something about what’s happening to me. It’s hard to believe, but you have to listen to me…”

  The dizziness returned, more intense than before. My vision blurred and darkened around the corners. Red colored my sight. “I… uh… my dreamstone… I mean… my tree… oh, I don’t feel so good…”

  Darkness closed around me.

  Rude Awakening

  A persistent, loud buzzing and burbling sound surrounded me. I spun around and looked up at a giant old-style percolating coffee pot towering over me. The pot started with a low rumbling, which turned into a roar. The roar reached a peak, and the coffee spurted up and hit the little glass cap on top. It paused for a moment, gave a loud sigh, and then, the rumble started again. The noise shook my whole body. I held my ears, but the sound didn’t stop. I tried to walk away, but it followed me. I started running faster and faster, but I couldn’t outrun the coffee pot...

  I opened my eyes. I wasn’t at home, but on my back in a hospital bed, in a hospital room with a tube in my arm and a little machine in the corner softly beeping. What the…? The loud burbling sound resolved into my dad slouching in a corner chair, snoring like he meant it.

  “Dad?” I asked hesitantly. Then, I added a little more power to my voice. “Dad!”

  He awoke mid-snort, sat up, and blinked at me, his glasses askew. When he saw me awake, he jumped out of his chair and rushed to my side. “Finn! Thank God! It’s good to see you awake.”

  He gave me an awkward hug, leaning over the rail on my bed with me trying to return it. It was strangely hard to lift my arms.

  “Dad, what happened?”

  He pulled back and pent up tears pooled in his eyes. He murmured, “You’re in the hospital, son. We couldn’t wake you up.” Raw emotion choked him. “We were so scared. You were in a coma.”

  “Well, I feel okay now. A little tired, I guess.”

  “Finn, you’ve been unconscious for two days.”

  Shocked, I tried to sit up in the bed. The blankets fought back, heavier than I could handle, and my muscles simply refused to move. I gave up and just lay back.

  “Do they know what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to hide the growing suspicion that I already knew what had happened.

  “No, that’s what got us all really worried. The docs have done all sorts of tests on you. They haven’t been able to find any cause. Your iron levels are low, but not enough to do this. They couldn’t find any tumors, evidence of a concussion, or heart problems.”

  “Wow!” I put my hands on my head. They moved like someone had attached lead weights. “Dad! Where is my neckla
ce?”

  “Don’t worry son. It's safe.”

  “Dad! I need it. Where is it?”

  With a frown and a worried glance, he got up, went to the closet, and came back with my necklace-cum-stick-on-a-string. I groped for it, leaning forward in the bed as far as my drained muscles would allow. He gave it to me, and I put it back on with a sigh of relief. Just having it on took the exhaustion and weight off my body almost immediately.

  He stood next to the bed watching me with questioning eyes, though he remained silent.

  I had to answer his unspoken question. “I don’t know, Dad, it just makes me feel better to have this near me.”

  “Okay, son. Whatever you need.”

  A wave of tiredness swept through me when I turned to him again. “I know it’s silly, but I really like them. They… they remind me of the dig and all the time we spent together there.”

  His face relaxed. “Okay, well, you have them now. Get some more rest.”

  I closed my eyes, safe enough to allow the exhaustion to claim me again.

  When I opened them again, I was alone with a petite, perky, blond nurse busying herself with my various bags. She saw me tracking her and gave me a cute, dimpled smile. “Hi, there. How are you feeling?”

  I thought about it for a second. Everything seemed in order—nothing felt horrible, except the empty rumbling of my gut. “Uh, not bad. Tired. Thirsty. Hungry.”

  “Well, I’ll get you some water. Drink up, and then feel free to hang out and sleep some more.”

  “No problem there.”

  She brought me a cup of water from a pitcher on the nightstand next to the bed and then did some mysterious things with the machines attached to me. I watched her while I went through three more cups of water. Her name tag dubbed her Kati, (with an I). A bright perky name for a bright perky nurse.

  After she finished, she left me a full pitcher and then hustled out. “Good night. I’ll stop back in a few hours.” I couldn’t wait to see her again. I drifted back to a dreamless sleep, surrounded by the ever-changing tune that I could hear in my mind once more.